


possibly maybe

by stellaviatorii



Category: Star Trek Beyond - Fandom, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Star Trek Beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaviatorii/pseuds/stellaviatorii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having been stranded on an alien planet with an injured Spock, Bones thinks he's entitled to a little lunacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	possibly maybe

Of course the nights on this planet sunk to temperatures you wouldn’t even find in the Arctic. Of course Bones would be stuck here, dragging a nearly unconscious Vulcan through a warren of caves that could be hiding any number of dangers. Of course Spock had to notice the sunset, resignation writ into the tense lines of his shoulders.

 

“Doctor-”

 

“Shut up,” Bones growled, hefting Spock closer to his body as they stumbled into another empty hollow.

 

“I only wish to state that it is highly unlikely-”

 

“Those ears of yours messed up too? I said shut it.”

 

Spock exhaled slowly, his eyes beginning to glaze over. “My hearing is as it always is, Doctor, and I must express doubt over your medical expertise if you cannot recognise that.”

 

“Ha. You’re lucky I took an oath,” Bones muttered. The further they went into the cave the warmer it became, perking his gratitude for the first time that day. “C’mon, sit down. I’ve gotta check that wound again.”

 

Though he attempted to hide it, relief trickled through the glance Spock shot him. He let himself be maneuvered into an alcove and prodded by Bones’ expert fingers. Though he’d stopped majority of the bleeding, Spock’s stomach was covered in green, dry and crusting at the edges. Bruising curled around his ribs like smoke, colouring the eerie pale of his prickled skin. The reality of the situation settled heavy on Bones’ shoulders: without proper medical care, Spock would be dead within a few days.

 

He grit his teeth and forced a smile. “You’re doing fine.”

 

Spock, previously dozing, glared. “Do not lie to me,” he said, quiet but steeled.

 

Bones threw his hands in the air. “Well, shit, Spock, what do you want me to say? There’s no hope? Might as well give up now?”

 

“No. But as your superior officer, I demand the truth.”

 

Outside the nebula glowed, filtering enough light into the cave for Spock to see a spasm pass over Bones’ face. “Fine,” he snapped, fists clenched. “You’ve lost too much blood. With this hellhole being as cold as it is, you could slip into a coma overnight and go into cardiac arrest. Happy?”

 

Spock was silent for a moment. “No, Leonard,” he finally whispered, “I am not.”

 

A sudden wave of guilt swarmed Bones’ chest, forcing the air from his lungs. Even if he was the most difficult co-worker he’d ever had to deal with (bar Jim), Spock didn’t deserve to spend the last hours of his life on the wrong side of Leonard McCoy’s acid tongue. Nobody did. He shut his eyes against the headache brewing in his temples and wished, not for the first time, that he would wake up in his quarters and realise this nightmare was just that.

 

“Okay,” he sighed, opening his arms, “come here.”

 

“I - Doctor?” Spock cocked his head, his lips parted in surprise. If it were any other day Bones would be rushing to take a picture. Instead he gestured in what he hoped was an invitation.

 

“Gotta keep you warm. Now scootch your ass over here.”

 

Spock took an extra few seconds to stare, but the logic of the situation eventually persuaded him to shuffle into Bones’ embrace, back pressed to his chest. The muscles mere centimetres from Bones’ face were still tightly wound and braced for flight, and if he squinted he could almost catch tremors in Spock’s clasped hands. He barely considered that this was _Spock_ before he loosened his arms and dug his fingers into Spock’s back, an old physiotherapy teacher’s voice echoing through the decades as he massaged the seized latissimus dorsi.

 

Spock didn’t react beyond a sharp inhale, his eyes still fixed on the mouth of the cave with a singular focus Bones envied. It took minutes for him to relax, letting go of tension in the tiniest of increments, but he didn’t protest when Bones’ hands went further and prodded the muscles in the small of his back. Neither of them were idiots - a touch like this meant something, though precisely what they would never interrogate. Too much shared stubbornness flowed between them, forcing the right words, the proper discussions, back down their throats until they choked on them.

 

Bones finished with a grunt. “Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”

 

It was a testament to how exhausted he was that Spock obeyed. His breaths grew heavy and regular, the sole sound for miles. Lying beside him ( _spooning him,_ he wouldn’t admit), Bones felt like they were the only living things in the universe: just him, Spock, and the nebula silently spinning around them. It was almost peaceful.

 

He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been navel gazing when Spock groaned in his sleep, curling inward to protect his wound. Bones made quick work of checking it, his examination more gentle than he’d acknowledge, and soon enough he came to the conclusion that there was nothing more he could do. Well, medically speaking - his mother’s soft eyes came to mind, every childhood platitude she had ever murmured against his hair teasing the edges of his consciousness.

 

Spock’s brows unknit themselves as Bones stroked his bicep with a thumb. _Fuck it_ , he thought, and bridged the distance between them to press his dry lips to the back of Spock’s feverish neck. It wasn’t quite a kiss - that implied a degree of investment Bones balked at the idea of confessing to himself - but he felt as if it were helping anyway. It was a small mercy that Spock didn’t stir, his ribcage expanding and contradicting in time with his but barely disturbing the dust on the ground.

  
Bones’ hand snaked around and found the reverberation of Spock’s heartbeat, strong and persistent, as if he were looking death in the eye and saying “no, _you_ move”. If he let the night play tricks on his tired eyes, he could almost see Spock winning.

**Author's Note:**

> minor edits made 9/6/17


End file.
